


Authenticity, only poetry could even begin to try to describe

by CorgiOnARollerCoaster



Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 01:14:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30013836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorgiOnARollerCoaster/pseuds/CorgiOnARollerCoaster
Summary: Soulmate au where you and your soulmate(s) share the same mark that nobody else shares.Cassandra Cain wonders, what is love?Major character death tag refers to Cass, Steph, David Cain, Brenda, Onyx and Bruce, all of whom die offscreen.The non-con tag refers to Red Robin 24/25
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Cassandra Cain, Bruce Wayne & Cassandra Cain, Cassandra Cain & Barbara Gordon, Cassandra Cain & Brenda Miller, Cassandra Cain & Jean-Paul Valley, Cassandra Cain & Tim Drake, Dick Grayson & Cassandra Cain, Onyx Adams & Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown & Cassandra Cain
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	Authenticity, only poetry could even begin to try to describe

**Author's Note:**

> This story is hosted on Archive of Our Own, where you can read it for free. If you find this story anywhere else, it was posted without the consent of the author.
> 
> Note: there’s a reference to attempted rape from Red Robin 24/25. If you'd rather skip that, stop reading at “She wears it for the first time...” and start reading again at “She thinks Bruce is wrong...”

Her childhood is a blur of _pain, fear, loneliness_. She moves from city to city, searching for a place to call home. In her travels, she sees lots of people with scars. They’re not ugly, not like the ones that blemish her skin: the deep lacerations of a sharp blade, the lashes of a braided whip, the bullet scars that mar her skin. No, these scars have more colours than deep red, blue-purple, muted yellow. They are blue like the sky, green like the grass, red like the retreating sun, and much more. She doesn’t know the words to describe them, not yet, but she admires the beauty in the marks as people unknowingly pass her by. 

Barbara is the one to teach her about soulmates, two people with lots of love for each other. Not always the kissy type, the redhead explains, but people with an unshakeable connection who care for each other. These people develop a special mark on their bodies, unique to their relationship. Most people have more than one soulmate, and Barbara shows the girl the patterns and shapes on her skin that show her love for others, and how much they love her in return. The girl traces the contours of her marks, marveling at the bright colours and beauty of the designs. 

When she shrugs after Barbara asks her if she knows what love is, Barbara smiles and says, “Chemically, love is a mix of the hormones dopamine, serotonin and oxytocin. Combined, it makes you crave someone’s presence, because your brain thinks they will bring you happiness. At first, it’s kind of like the feeling of jumping from a high place. Scary, but thrilling, leaving you curious enough to take the chance. Later, love is...like the ocean on a calm day. Gentle, soothing, but present and still powerful enough to sweep you off your feet.” She doesn’t understand much, but the way Barbara’s eyes light up at certain parts, the pinkness of her cheeks and curve of her lips is enough for her to get the gist. 

Barbara is also the first person she shares a soulmark with. In the months that pass since she arrived at Gotham, Barbara becomes her friend, teacher, and mother figure. And the day she saves Barbara’s father (the day she sees _him_ again and meets the Batman and beats Two-Face) is the day they grow a soulmark. It tingles as it appears. A rainbow apple (“Apple for teacher, huh?”), a promise to be there for each other, to teach one another in equal measures. 

* ***** *

Barbara is also the first one to give Cassandra ( _Kuh - san - druh_ ) a Christmas gift, a tiny bottle of perfume. It smells sweet, like ripe apples and honey and sunshine. It’s Azrael’s first Christmas too, so Barbara gives him a harmonica. His playing is discordant, rough and sharp and Cass cringes when his lips first breathe life into the instrument. His second try is much better, and Cass loses herself in the enchanting melody. Her body moves of its own accord, and she’s dancing like the people she watched on TV, performing spins and leaps and twirls. Azrael is impressed and overjoyed when he figures out that that was her present to him. 

Later, when the streets are safe and Azrael’s in the hospital, he gives her her second Christmas gift: a small golden angel statue. A pair of fiery angel wings appear between her shoulder blades that night, and Cass is happy for another kindred soul. 

The next day, she asks him, “What...is...love?”

Azrael smiles at her, “Love is devotion. It can waver, but ultimately you can’t escape its bonds. It ties you down, and it either humbles you or inspires you. Love can be pure, but it can also be selfish. It can be a destroyer, but it can also be a saviour. It can ground you, or run you into the ground.”

Cass thinks love is dangerous. What did Barbara say? _Scary, thrilling_. But Cass is curious. She’s dangerous (only to criminals), she scares people (just ask Robin). She wonders if she’ll ever experience it the way Barbara had: gentle, soothing but powerful enough to knock her off her feet. 

* ***** *

Robin is suspicious? Wary? Scared? _Scared_. Of her. He’s not difficult to work with, but there’s a tension between them at first that isn’t there when she works with Batman or even Nightwing. It takes a week or three, but eventually he apologizes for being so weird and he tells the truth when he says he wants to be friends. After their declaration of friendship, a nearby school bus gets taken hostage. It isn’t a challenge for the apprentices to the Bat, and soon they’re escorting the kids to safety one by one. The kids are scared, _intimidated_ , by her but they’re all over Robin. He’s smiling, trying to pay equal amounts of attentiveness to each kid who wants to talk to the Boy Wonder in person. She saw him fight the kidnappers, how fierce he became in the blink of an eye, how protective he was of the kids. She understands why he puts on the mask now: to protect the innocent, aid the oppressed, and punish the wicked. The same reasons as her own. 

She feels a familiar tingling sensation on her stomach. Later she’ll stare at a golden dragon, shimmering wings spread wide, spiky tail curled around an egg. 

But for now Robin crouches down and play-whispers, “Did you know Batgirl can beat Batman in a fight?” Then suddenly the kids are flocking to her like seagulls and she’s the last French fry, curious voices clamouring for her attention. Robin smiles at her as she demonstrates some moves that would be banned in normal martial arts schools. The kids love her regardless. 

She asks him later, when all the kids are safe, “What is love?” 

And he deadpans, “Baby don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me, no more.”

She blinks, confused. He blinks, suddenly awkward and aware that she was looking for a different answer. His body is an open book to her, and she sees his confusion turn into awkwardness, into embarrassment. He was…adorable, in a helpless sort of way. 

“Well, uh, love. It’s a feeling. You already know that - um basically it makes you feel fuzzy. Like a good fuzzy, not a drugged kind of fuzzy. Happy, warm fuzzies. Fudge -” He takes a deep breath, “Love is that feeling when you try to make your loved one laugh, and when you do, your whole day gets brighter. Love is when you do something nice for them, because you want them to be happy. When you’re scared, but you know it’s going to be okay because you have them by your side.”

“Make them...happy. Give them...warm fuzzies.”

Robin flushes, but he smiles. “Yeah. Happy, warm fuzzies.”

* ***** *

Sometime during their training sessions, Cass and Stephanie develop a soulmark. It’s a purple candy wrapper, bright and shiny. She shows her student the mark as soon as she learns about it. 

Spoiler is _happy-excited-triumphant_ when she learns she has more soulmarks than Cass. “Another thing I’ve beaten you at,” she gloats and her laughter rings across the rooftop. 

Cass asks her what love is. The blonde puts her hand on her stomach and smiles sardonically, “Love is overrated. It sucks because the ones you love hurt you the most.”

“Do...you love your father?” Cass asks hesitantly.

Spoiler scoffs. “I can’t remember if I ever did. We never shared a soulmark.”

“I had a baby, you know?” Stephanie says suddenly and Cass is surprised. “To protect it from my dad, I gave it up for adoption. I haven’t met the couple, but Mom says they’re really nice. Normal. _White picket fence, attends church on Sundays, the whole all-American family_ stuff.

“Love isn’t all sunshine and kittens and rainbows. It can be a real pain to love someone.”

Cass doesn’t understand her words until she hears about Steph’s death. Then it turns out to be a lie and it hurts all over again. 

* ***** *

When Nightwing takes off the suit, she sees the colours and the marks and the shapes and knows, _he is loved so much by so many, and he loves back tenfold._ She wonders if she’ll ever be that loved. 

It takes some time, but they each grow a blue bird with a red heart-shaped chest: Cass’s on her thigh, Dick’s on the back of his hand. 

“What is love?” she asks, when he tells her the story of Cinderella and her true love. 

He smiles, “In all of its forms, love makes life worth living. When people really commit and work for it, love can last more than a lifetime.” She wonders if he sees the shadows of his parents when he says that. _Blonde hair, an infectious grin_ , comes to mind and she forcibly pushes the thought away.

“Have you ever been in love? Like love-love?”

His smile is a bit bitter when he says, “Too much, too deep. But I wasn’t enough to make them stay.”

(And if people can fall out of love with _Dick Grayson_ , what chance does _Cassandra Cain_ have?) 

* ***** *

Alfred is very thoughtful. He drops by her place to restock her kitchen and do her laundry. She had been too busy to wonder where her supplies suddenly came from. She invites him to stay one night, and he introduces her to tea (the only caffeine Barbara owns is coffee). She likes tea: it’s warm with subtle flavours, perfect for relaxing after a long patrol. 

In these quiet moments, a silver compass embeds itself on the small of her back. Alfred smiles when they talk about their mark. “We guide them, Miss Cassandra, we lead the way for our family to follow. In time, when I take my departure (not for another thirty years I assure you) and when Master Bruce retires (which will be the only thing concerning him in my will) you will help them onto a better path. You will make them better.” 

“Alfred, are you saying...I could be Batman?”

“I think you can do whatever you put your mind to, Miss Cassandra. You certainly possess the heart, and as a bonus, the skills, talent and dedication.” 

Cass hugs him. “Thanks, Alfred. May I ask you one more thing?”

“Absolutely, my dear.”

“What’s love to you?”

“My, has there been a recent development in your social life?” Cass simply shrugged. “Love is a choice. You choose to dedicate yourself to someone, no matter how difficult it can be, or how they make it be. Because you may not be able to control who you love, but you can choose what to do with your love.” 

“You’re talking about Batman.”

“Why, of course. He is my son in everything but blood.”

“Cain...never felt that way. We never shared a soulmark, but we share blood.”

“If I may, Miss Cassandra, David Cain is a bloody arse and you always deserved better.”

“Thanks, Alfred.”

* ***** *

Tim is hurting, Cass is hurting. Love has hurt them so much, in such a short time. She asks him the question again, when they’re sitting on the couch at her place, drinking the tea he made.

“Love is the smile you make when you see them. When the way they smile back lights up your world, and you can’t look away. When they leave and your life darkens, you know you loved them - too much and too late.”

She doesn’t ask who he’s talking about. He has too many ghosts absent from his life. 

* ***** *

Batman and her don’t share a soulmark. She asks anyways. 

  
  
(She wonders if they will share a mark one day. Maybe a bat, a symbol of salvation, redemption. A figure of lost dreams and hope. She’s done everything she could to be worthy of it, to prove to the city that she could be the hero the people need.

To Cass, the Bat is faith in humanity, faith that people can change, faith that people are good.)

Batman tells her, “Love is when you care for someone too much, when they become your center, your life raft. Your loved ones are the most important thing in the world, and you would burn the world for them.”

Dick tells her about Jason later, how Batman skirted the border of his code, saving himself and choosing to let the Joker die ( _he didn’t_ ). She wonders how powerful love can be for Batman to go against his mission of salvation and redemption for all. She wonders if she’ll ever love someone to the point of betraying her oath, betraying _herself_ ; and if someone will ever love her to the point of crossing _that_ line for _her_.

(It’s a scary thought.)

* ***** *

Brenda Miller is a surprise. 

Brenda is kind. She _sees_ the bruises and thinks she _knows_ Cass, but doesn’t judge and offers her food, despite the fact that her cafe is barely holding on, and _friendship_. The friendship is...nice. She’s never had a civilian friend before. Someone who doesn’t know her past, but wants to know her _now_. It’s refreshing and she finds herself exploring the nuances of different tea flavours, afternoon after afternoon. Her favourite is Assam tea, and Alfred buys her three months’ worth of tea bags to store at her apartment, but she keeps returning to Brenda’s cafe. 

Brenda is fun. She invites her to her first party (Batman’s galas don’t count). She likes the loud music, the screamed lyrics, the bustle and bumping of bodies in the mosh pit. It’s freeing, different from the free feel when she glides over the rooftops, when she jumps and falls only to launch her grapple at the last second. As she and Brenda dance to the music (if Alfred could see her now, the conniption he’d have) she forgets Cain, forgets Stephanie, forgets Batgirl: she lives in the beat of the music and in the smell of sweat and Brenda’s floral perfume. 

Brenda is calming. She talks to Cass about herself and asks about her in return. She takes care of Cass when Cass lets her exhaustion show, and she offers help but never pushes Cass’s boundaries. It’s no surprise that they develop a soulmark, a soft pink steaming teapot. Brenda’s smile practically splits her face in half when she walks in the next afternoon, treating her to anything she wants, on the house, and Brenda sits down to eat with her and they talk for _hours._ Cass leaves a generous tip, and falls asleep with a grin on her face. 

* ***** *

Onyx is fun to be around. They train together on the rooftops of Blüdhaven, and her body sings when Cass lands hit after hit. Onyx, who also trained under Shiva, is training her to be better. Cass wants to be better. She needs to be better. Ghosts haunt her nightmares, listing all the ways she could have saved them. A few weeks into their sessions, Cass finds a thorny Osiria rose on her bicep when she wakes one afternoon. The petals are white like snow, red like blood. She thinks it’s fitting: two assassins, reformed but unable to escape the blood they shed, beautiful but dangerous, seeking redemption for the bloody sins that linger when they sleep. 

Onyx laughs when she asks, but quickly quiets down when she sees the seriousness in her eyes. “I’ve never been in a relationship, kid, and the only soulmarks I’ve had before you were Orpheus and my parents.” And Cass wonders about her birth mother ( _Cain probably killed her_ \- but you don’t give up on love, right?)

* ***** *

The Lazarus pit washes away her scars, her skin now smooth and absent of the bruises and calluses, reminders of the pain in her life, of her survival and triumphs. She’s extremely relieved the soulmarks stay, and traces Brenda, Onyx and Stephanie’s marks with a soft finger. 

Distantly, underneath the rage of green crashing beneath her eyes, she wonders if Shiva, her _mother_ , loves her enough to share a soulmark with her. But Shiva challenges her to a duel again - to the death, and she feels foolish, she feels angry, she feels _hurt_. 

She does try to save Shiva, but her mother preferred to die. And it’s not personal, but it feels like a rejection of her love. Love from a child to a parent, one that shouldn’t have been offered but was freely given anyway. She doesn’t hesitate to impale her mother on a sharp hook and leave her there. 

(She doesn’t think about it, but the waters pushed her to do it, dragging her soul down to the depths as waves of green flooded her vision.)

After that, she’s not Batgirl anymore. She’s different, the violent whispers of the pit contradicting the silkiness of her skin. The words in her head are _wrong_ , the impulses of her body say _hurt_ instead of _subdue._ For a while, she’s not even Cassandra. 

* ***** *

Eventually, she’s Cassandra again. But the shame, the guilt, the nightmares increase tenfold. Through the memory of the pit (not strong enough to overcome her, but still _present_ ) she’s angry, too angry. Absolutely furious at a father who never loved her, who took advantage of a grieving woman and was enough of a monster to take her childhood innocence, who abused her and continues to abuse children. He won’t stop: _she_ was supposed to be his magnum opus, and her failure - no, her triumph - is why he continues to mold child assassins. He won’t stop himself, so she will. Permanently. 

(Sometimes she wonders if this is love - so much love, too much love, for children, people she’s never met but willing to kill for, to preserve the remnants of their innocence and end their pain. She checks the dictionary, this is _vengeance,_ she’s _avenging_. Is this the line Batman was willing to toe all those years ago: when Jason Todd was a fond, bittersweet memory and not an unrepentant murderer?)

* ***** *

She doesn’t kill him, there’s already too much blood on her hands. Killing him won’t absolve her of her sins, and it won’t undo all the pain he caused. She never wanted to be a killer, so she tries to save him. 

(He dies anyway.)

She looks at Batman, expecting suspicion and disappointment, but all she sees is pride? Happiness??

Love??? ( **what** )

He asks for her permission to adopt her. He’s not done talking before she’s hugging him, arms tight and eyes wet. He’s hugging her back and his body is exclaiming: _I love you! I want you! I love you!_ Tim is watching, a few feet away, radiating joy and love. She beams at him through the rain, and after a few moments of having Bruce ( **Dad!** ) to herself, beckons him to join. She hugs her new father and brother, basking in their love. Later, she sees the outline of unbalanced scales of justice on her shoulder. This is their ideal, their mission. They know they can never right all the wrongs in the world, nor seek justice for each and every hurt, but they will do their damn best while there’s breath in their bodies and love in their hearts. 

* ***** *

The ink has barely dried when Bruce ( **Dad** , **_Dad_** ) is gone. And once again, Cass resents how love makes her hurt _so much_. Dying hurt less. 

* ***** *

In Hong Kong, she does her duty. She follows her calling. She just wishes she wasn’t so lonely. New marks interrupt the smoothness of her skin, from bruises to cuts to bullet wounds and it feels all too familiar - as if the past year was just a nightmare (she knows it wasn’t and now there’s more blood staining her hands than there ever has been before). She stalks the streets at night, and in the early rays of sunrise, she maps out the soulmarks of Bruce, Babs, Dick, Alfred, Jean-Paul and Steph. These bonds aren’t broken; after the months of being _not Cassandra_ , not being in Gotham, she’s grateful that they still shine on her skin. She shouldn’t miss Tim, he’s the only one who knows where she is, what she’s doing, how she’s doing, but she smooths her thumb over the golden dragon and wishes he would visit. 

He does come to see her, and she sees his exhaustion in the lines of his silhouette. But his mouth is energetic, as if seeing her was the only good thing that happened to him in the last few weeks. He talks about Gotham, and she sees the _longing_ and _hurt_ in the shape of his figure, in the motions of his body. It mirrors her own. 

He makes her tea ( _Assam_ , and she doesn’t know how _he_ _knows_ , but she shows her gratefulness in her smile, in her caress of his cheek). He gives her a gift: a suit ~~she felt~~ she had dishonoured with the blood on her hands and the screams in her nightmares ( _never ending, always another voice added after each night passes_ ). 

He asks her, “And what do _you_ need?” 

She hasn’t allowed herself to ask that question in a very long time.

She doesn’t know exactly what she needs, much less what she _wants_.

The bat symbol pushed her to be better, better than herself, better for herself. Better for the people she shares her soulmarks with, whom she loves and who love her back. For the people she’s met, for the ones she hasn’t, the ones she has yet to.

She takes the suit. _Thank you,_ goes unspoken. His joy too, though they both see it. 

She wears it for the first time when she arrives to save him, his body screaming _help, stop, I don’t want this._ Cass knows how to inflict pain (she’s too familiar with pain, they have a rather unique relationship), she wants to inflict pain on this monster who dares to hurt her little brother, but she holds back, because Tim needs her right now, and she loves her family more than anything else in the world.

(She thinks Bruce is wrong, later: love doesn’t lead you astray from your path of justice - it merely makes you reconsider your definition of justice.

There’s a fine line between justice and vengeance, and whether he knows it or not, Bruce walks the line.)

* ***** *

Stephanie sings along with the radio, “ _What is love? Baby don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me, no more_ ,” and Cass reflects on love.

Love is Barbara’s teasing wit as she verbally parries with her loved ones, the words slipping from her tongue like lava, good-natured burns familiar and bringing conversations to life, friends to laughter. Love is seen through her digital eyes as they create a shield of knowledge over her teammates; in her real eyes, as green as fresh grass and _oh so_ intelligent, assessing Cass for injuries and her strong, sturdy arms bringing Cassandra into a warm, welcoming hug. It’s in the unspoken exchanges when Barbara’s palm cups her cheek and she looks at Cass like a mother would her daughter.

Love is Azrael’s music, bright and loud and powerful, that makes her body want to celebrate their friendship. It is the burning of the fires beneath both of their eyes as they strive to become the saviours the city deserves.

Love is Tim’s gentle smile; not the practiced smile for the press and the rest of the family, but a real smile that blooms when he sees her, and she’s glad that her love has touched places no one else ever can, a ray of light filtering through darkness in his life. Love is in the tea he makes her, encompassing her in warmth and soothing scents, in the way he always thinks about her when the others overlook her, in the gifts he gives her to remind her _she is family and she is wanted and she is loved_ ; when she sneaks into his home and he’s already waiting for her with enough of her favourite snacks to keep an army satisfied. 

At first, love was in Stephanie’s booming laugh as she talks and talks and talks. Later, it’s in the awkward silences, in the sting of the lies that grew deeper and deeper with time, the wide distance that is gradually shrinking between them as they try to reconnect despite the pain because Cass has lost too many loved ones, she _won’t_ lose another. 

Love is Dick’s gentle touch, his body saying, _I care about you, tell me all your secrets and we’ll shoulder them together._ Love is in his stories, as fun and as dynamic as he is, and Cass can’t help but smile when he does _the voices_ , just for her _._

Love is Bruce’s soft grunts, his nods of approval, the precious smiles he grants when Cass feels happy or excited or accomplished. Love is the spark in his eyes when she visits the Manor, the solid presence of his arms and torso as he pulls her into a hug. It’s seen in the times when he broods, when she approaches him and he lets her rest her head on his shoulder as he stands before old graves in reverence. It’s in the language of his body as he takes her out for her favourite ice cream afterwards, in the quirk of his lips as he lets Cass choose the music on the way there and back. 

For Cass, love is found in Gotham. Like love, the city brings joy and sorrow and anger and hurt and hope. Love is not perfect she finds, but sustaining and fulfilling and _real_. She sees it in the city streets, when vigilantes aid the oppressed and the downtrodden, when they protect innocents from getting hurt, when her family works just as hard to help people just as much outside the masks. She’s always liked it in Gotham, and the city is her home. 

For Cass, love is home.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the longest thing I’ve written in a while. 
> 
> I haven’t read a lot of comics focusing on Azrael, so I’m sorry if he’s OOC.
> 
> Title’s from Four by Sleeping At Last (but I was really tempted to name it What is Love?)


End file.
